Close Enough To Hurt Me
by PurpleWallflower
Summary: A look into the world of Santana. A subtle look at Brittana.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! Nice to be here on this lovely website. Here's a little peak into Santana's world. an attempt at a subtle look at Brittana. This is my first thing posted! I feel a sense of accomplishment. Please comment/review! Enjoy!

_1._

_There was something about singing "Turning Tables" that tore at me. I was not feeling sorry for Mr. Shue. No, I'm pretty sure that he has no idea what he is doing most of the time, and constantly dragging his off-the-handle girlfriends to Glee club for inspiration? Tacky. It wasn't even because of Ms. Holliday, who I generally like, even though she helped start this whole issue. The song just really pierced me. This whole deal with Brittany has just gotten so intense, the type of intense that even I have problems with. Brittany and I were always a thing. For as long as I remember. Even when she was sleeping with the whole school and I was on and off with Puckerman, she was always constant. She was my first kiss. Well, she wasn't really, but she was the first that I felt. The first that meant anything. I know that I probably shouldn't have been so distant, but it's just so much… Anyway, it wouldn't have been a problem if Artie, her stupid boyfriend, didn't put all those ideas in her head. Sure, she thinks he's some rolling knight that can shout his feelings about her everywhere he goes. This is Lima Ohio! I can't just tell everyone that I love her! No, like her. Kurt might be able to do that to the boys he likes, but I need to stay on top at this school, I can't afford to do any less. Even if I did love her, the sting of slushie in the face would be the least of my worries._

Santana slammed her car door, marching on the cracked pavement to her warm home. She closed the door to her dark room, leaning against the firm door frame and yanking off her tall heels. Running a hand through her thick black hair, she sighed, looking at her figure in the full glass mirror. She slid to the floor, legs splayed out on the red carpet, head leaning against the bed. Exhausted and overwhelmed, her tears made circles on her lap as she pulled out her phone and fiddled with the keypad. Heart hurting, and breathing in hiccup gasps she scrolled through her contact list.

Her body ached with longing and she stiffened in hesitation. Anticipation. Frustration.

**S: Hey Brit. It's me. Can you come over?**

Her finger hovered over the send button. Finally, like a meager act of defiance it smashed into the send button, and retreated like the brush of eyelashes against a warm cheek. Standing up, Santana smoothed her clothes, brushing her hair and glancing in the mirror.

_Look aloof. Unattached. Indifferent. Remember, it's better without emotions_

"I won't let you close enough to hurt me"

- _Turning Tables_ by Adele


	2. Chapter 2

2.

With a puff of breath, Santana rolled over to her side. Her eyes blinked slowly, groggily. Seeing the head-sized dent in the pillow and shaped blankets vacant of a warm body was like being doused in icy water. The slats in the shades sent morning light to occupy the space where Brittany had previously lain. Santana froze in shock, the raw feeling of loneliness gushing into her.

_She's gone. She's never just left me before. I've left tons of people in the middle of the night after sleeping with people, but I would never leave Brittany. I would never leave her…_

Santana sighed, rocking on to her back and gazing blankly at the ceiling. The house was starting to disgust her. A new type of loneliness was seeping in; a different type of virus than that of her father who was always working, rushing in from the dentists' office late, or her mother who spent hours on the phone, and even longer "visiting" at George's house. This loneliness was pure poison, churning in her heart like migratory stomach acid. Santana pushed herself out of bed, shuffling to her dresser. A note was waiting for her.

Dear Santana,**  
><strong>Thanks for the sweet lady kisses.**  
><strong>Artie and I are going to SeaWorld,**  
><strong>they have a gayshark show.

Santana's laugh at Brittany's drawing of dolphins in top hats covered the choked sob that was suppressed in her throat. Gently lifting the note off of the dresser, she went into her closet. Taking a hot pink shoebox off of the shelf, she closed the closet door behind her, turned on the light and sat cross legged on the floor.

_She once called it a forest of clothes. We were once sitting in Times Square. And I could almost feel it, looking up at all of those clothes above me. Sitting next to her. I could almost see it. But Brittany can make anything into magic._

Santana gingerly opened the pink box, placing the lid beside her, and nostalgically looked inside. Colored papers of all shapes and sizes filled the box, weighed with crayoned and markered drawings, and lots of glitter. Santana smiled, remembering the box's origin from a day when they were both six years old:

_"We'll be friends forever right San?"_

_"Yeah Brit, we will."_

_Brittany looked up from the card drenched in glitter that she was working on and stated laughing. Santana scowled, "What is it?"_

_Laughing, Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and dragged her to the closet. She pushed aside shoes and her favorite pair of sneakers, (she had proudly shown them to Santana the day that her mom bought them for her, excited that they had silver charms dangling on the laces. Santana had to fix them more than once after Brittany let her cat, Lord Tubbington, unlace her sneakers). Brittany grinned, pulling two shoe boxes towards her._

_"My mom told me to throw these boxes away, but I told her that the elves took them!" Grinning with pride, she showed Santana the two pink shoe boxes, decorated with glitter pen, one bearing Brittany's name and one with Santana's. Handing the box with "Brittany" inked on the lid to Santana, she beamed,_

_"See! They're mailboxes! Now we can save the notes we write to each other!" Softly taking the box from Brittany's hands, Santana didn't feel like mentioning that both of their families now had cordless home phones, and they had already memorized each other's phone numbers. Santana looked down at the box and a drawing of a unicorn secretly smiled back at her,_

_"Sure thing BritBrit! As long as you keep yours too." Exuberant at Santana's words, Brittany leaped up and walked back into her room, handing the card she was working on to Santana._

_Santana.__**  
><strong>__You are awwsum.__**  
><strong>__We are like ice cream and an ice cream cone_

_Pointing at the picture, Brittany smiled, "I would like to be the ice cream, okay?" Santana nodded and hugged Brittany, wrapping her arms around her neck so that she could feel her giggling close to her chest._

Santana placed the new note inside the box, frowning slightly at Artie's name, and she closed the lid on eleven years of notes. Back in her room, she pulled out a dark purple pen and a sheet of paper.

Brittany.**  
><strong>I know you're busy but maybe we could get ice cream this Saturday at 4

She drew two ice cream cones and a smile between them, marveling at how dull and flat they seemed compared to Brittany's bubbly art. Pulling on a shirt and shorts, she grabbed her car keys.

Rolling up to Brittany's mailbox, she folded the note in half, and wrote Brittany's name on the outside. She slid her hand into the mailbox, closed the rusted hinge door and drove off.

_Yes Brittany. You are sweet. But I think you were wrong. You're not the ice cream. I am. I think I might just need you Brit. Without you I'm like coneless ice cream; runny and difficult and upsetting._

"I've been afraid of changing, because I built my life around you"

- _Landslide_ by the Dixie Chicks


End file.
